


Circumstance Is Everything

by hugthenerds



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:45:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hugthenerds/pseuds/hugthenerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: The name of your soulmate is imprinted onto the skin of your left arm at birth. The name is written in the primary language of the country of that person's birth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Partners in Crime

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I came up with this little AU with the brilliant help of roosxaya.tumblr.com. Without their help, this little fic would've never happened. The characters have a mix of MCU and comic backgrounds, so some things might not match MCU or comic backgrounds perfectly. I did my best to try to make a happy medium of the two, particularly with the pieces of James and Steve as kids.

**1925—Brooklyn**

     “I said, stop that!” the young boy shouted. He was scrawny, way too weak to actually hold his own against the much larger boy before him. Steve Rogers had always hated bullies, for as long as he could remember. Even though he was outmatched, he stood up as he watched an even younger boy being picked on.

     "Who's gonna stop me?" the other boy asked, redirecting his attention on Steve now. "You?"

     "No, me," a voice called out from behind Steve. He turned around to face the boy in front of him. He'd seen him around the alleys once or twice; the boy was probably only a year older than Steve, but significantly larger and stronger. He was a much better match for the rude bully. "My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and no one messes with defenseless kids while I'm around."

     Steve stood in disbelief as he watched the older boy—James **—** scare off the bully effortlessly. "Thank you, James," Steve murmured, dwarfed by the larger boy.

     "Please, call me Bucky," he answered, flashing a charming smile and extending his hand to the other kid. His left hand. As they shook, they both couldn't help but notice the other boys' wrist. Everyone knew that the name of your soulmate was supposedly written on your left wrist from the day you were born, like a birthmark. It was a common topic of discussion among the kids, especially as an orphan. As kids who'd never known love or family, the prospect of a soulmate was the only hope they'd have.

     Bucky seemed to be mesmerized by Steve's pale wrist. A pristine stretch over a skinny white wrist, but marked with a dark brown name.  _Margaret Carter_. Steve couldn't seem to understand the other boy's fascination until he looked down at Bucky's wrist. He understood instantly why he'd been so interested in the name on his wrist. Inscribed there on Bucky's wrist was the name  _Наталья Романова_.

     "What language is that?" Steve asked, releasing Bucky's hand. At the question, Bucky looked almost ashamed. He hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck nervously before answering.

     "'S Russian," he mumbled, tucking his left hand under his right armpit. It was a habit he'd picked up years ago, when he first realized the implications of having the name of a Russian woman attached to his wrist. It wasn't the best look for him, particularly since he was an orphan. It essentially eliminated every possibility of ever getting adopted. Not that that was really a huge deal for Bucky. He'd been pretty self-sufficient ever since he and his sister were separated. He'd made a promise to himself that he'd build himself up and get Rebecca back some day.

     Steve nodded, being sure not to judge Bucky. Steve had spent more hours than he could count staring at the name on his wrist. Margaret. Maggie? Mags? He'd thought about her, imagined her, even tried looking her up in a phonebook. Of course, that never really worked. They were just kids; her name wouldn't be under its own listing, and Carter was an extremely common last name. Besides, she might not even be from New York. Hell, she might not even be from America.

     "Come on, kid," Bucky murmured, wrapping his arm around Steve's scrawny neck. "Come stay with me tonight. I've got a wicked setup on Fifth."

* * *

 

 **1944** **—Brooklyn**

"...You got your orders to ship out?" Steve asked, looking up at his friend in awe. The uniform really did suit him.  Nearly twenty years had passed since that day when they were children, the day they'd first met, and Bucky was still backing Steve up in alleys as he bit off more than he could chew with some bully.

     "Sergeant James Barnes, the 107th," he answered, a proud smirk on his lips. Ever since they were kids, both of the boys had a strong love of their country. Five years ago they'd been in an art class (which Steve convinced Bucky to take after a lot of prodding) when they heard news of the war. Bucky had started to train Steve almost immediately, but he'd never be an acceptable soldier. Bucky just didn't have the heart to tell him that.

     There was the most pained look of conflict on Steve's face; he was happy for his best friend, but he also knew that this meant that he would be losing Bucky. He decided humor was his best bet. "What, hoping you might find your Natalia out there in Russia and Germany?" Steve teased, picking himself up from the street of the alleyway. It was a low blow, but he'd earned the right to make fun of Bucky.

     "Very funny," Bucky deflected, though he couldn't help the twinge of guilt he felt at the name written on his wrist. For them, it was like a dirty secret. Bucky was sure to never tell anyone the name on his wrist if they asked. That, or he'd lie. Make up a name. Say there wasn't a name. Anything. "Promise me you won't try to follow me out there. Might put a damper on the mood, having you hanging around," he shot back.

     Steve feigned being shot by Bucky's words, but easily recovered, shoving Bucky as best as he could manage. "Watch it, jerk."

     "Punk," Bucky answered back, the smirk returning to his lips as they wandered back down the alley for the last time.

* * *

 


	2. Подельниками

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter title translation from Russian: Partners in Crime. All text in italics is understood to be in Russian

**1936 **—Stalingrad, Russia****

    " _Yelena, hurry up!_ " Natalia shouted, running down the hallway. The younger girl was running behind her, a slight grin on her lips. They had to be very careful; of course, they always were. But this was a very different circumstance. They wouldn't be able to avoid the Department X heads for much longer, so they had to find safety. Natalia knew of a small broom closet up ahead where they could hide for a little bit longer.

     Yelena ran after Natalia as fast as she could, hooking a left into the small closet as Natalia entered it. She had the camera in her hand, just as Natalia had asked. " _What are we doing here, Natalia?_ " Yelena asked, now out of breath and cramped into the tiny room.

     " _Making sure I never forget_ ," Natalia whispered back, a smile of amazement painted across her lips. She'd be of age soon to undergo the same treatments that the older girls got. A special serum. A special helmet that made you remember how much you love Russia. But she knew the truth. She knew that when you went into that room, you came out forgetting things.

     Natalia glanced down at the name on her wrist.  _James Barnes_. It was written in English. She'd always had a sense of dread about that, even if she knew that she'd never be allowed any sort of real life with her soulmate. But she didn't want to forget, either. " _Did you bring the camera?_ " she asked.

     The blonde held up the camera she held with her. She'd acquired it when she was sent out to do recon. The younger girls weren't really sent on actual missions, but they were sent to do the things that only children could. No one suspected a child. Yelena happened to find the camera while stealing state secrets, and kept it for herself. What Natalia wanted with it was slowly becoming clearer.

     “ _I’m not going to forget him, Yelena,_ ” Natalia told the younger girl with conviction. “ _Give me the camera_.” Natalia had always known that the Red Room expected more from her, expected her to be stronger than the name on her wrist. She knew they’d try to take this James away from her before she ever got him.

     There was a soft sadness in Yelena’s smile as she handed over the camera to her friend. Her only friend. Yelena had never had anyone else but Natalia. And Natalia had never had anyone else but Yelena. Except for James. Even if she didn’t have him, had never had him, he was still there with them as they went about their lives. An invisible presence.

     Natalia’s smile grew giddy as she took the camera and outstretched her arm. Her left arm. She’d always speculated about why it was the left. Most people believed that it was the same reason people claimed that you wore a wedding ring on your left hand: there’s a vein there that goes directly to your heart. Natalia wasn’t necessarily sure she believed that, but she tried not to think about it too much.

     A look of strong determination spread over her face as she steadied her right hand to take the photograph of her left wrist. The camera made a flash and a snapping sound, indicating that it had worked. Neither Yelena nor Natalia had ever used a camera before, so this moment was one of joy.

     “ _There. Now I’ll know him no matter what they do to me_ ,” Natalia beamed, grinning down at her wrist before redirecting her attention up to Yelena. “ _Your turn_ ,” she smiled.

     Yelena’s smile slipped away instantly, and she did the same motion she’d perfected ever since she realized what was on her wrist. She tucked her left hand easily under her right armpit, keeping the name hidden. Yelena always wore long sleeves in order to keep the name hidden.

     “ _No thanks,_ ” Yelena answered, shrugging a bit.

     “ _Oh, come on_ ,” Natalia whined, pouting a bit. “ _Yelena, why don’t you want me to know who your soulmate is? It can’t possibly be worse than some American or Englishman named James_.” But Yelena didn’t budge, simply shrugging, not answering Natalia.

     With a sigh, Natalia shrugged back, knowing that they were past the point of arguing on this matter. Natalia had been trying to figure out the name on Yelena’s wrist for years, ever since they first realized the implications of having a name inscribed on your wrist.

     An instant later, there was a loud banging on the door to the closet. “ _Urchins! Get out of there immediately!_ ” Of course, they obeyed. They had no choice. When the man saw who was inside, he instructed Natalia to report to Reprogramming. It was time.

     With a dead-eye stare, Natalia did as she was told. Report to Reprogramming. As painful as it was for Natalia to go, it was more painful for Yelena to watch her go. She just stood there as her only friend wandered away to her inevitable doom. She’d be hacked, turned into an asset for Mother Russia. With a clenched jaw, Yelena turned her back, heading in the opposite direction to her living quarters, the name on her wrist still hidden under her sleeve.

     When Natalia arrived at the Reprogramming Office, the man there offered her a soft smile. “ _Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Ready for your first session?_ ” he asked, looking down on her. She offered an obedient head nod. At that, the man bent down to her level, grabbing her left wrist. “ _Let’s take care of that pesky little name. No need to be worrying about him anymore_ ,” the man smiled.

      Reluctantly, Natalia agreed, letting him take her to the smaller of the two horrifying contraptions they kept in this room. He placed her wrist under a red light, and said, “ _This is going to hurt. Try not to scream_.”

     As the machine powered up, an electrifying signal was sent all throughout her body. She felt like she was on fire, like she could explode at any moment. Through gritted teeth, she forced herself to keep her screams internal. After what felt like an eternity, the machine powered down. When Natalia looked back down at her wrist, the name was gone. In its place was what looked like an old scar.

     Natalia clenched her jaw, knowing what the next step would be. Without a word, she moved to the other machine. It was shaped like a chair, but with modifications strapped to it. She knew that these were likely her last moments ever knowing anything about James Barnes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES I KNOW THAT THIS CHAPTER'S TITLE IS THE SAME AS THE FIRST CHAPTER'S TITLE. IT WAS INTENTIONAL.


	3. A Lost Cолдат

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter title translation from Russian: A Lost Soldier. All text in italics is understood to be in Russian

**1954 **—Just outside of Moscow, Russia****

" _Here! We found something! Still breathing!_ "

     " _What is that?_ "

     " _That's not the Captain._ "

     " _...We'll need to repair his arm_."

     " _Over here! I found a piece of him!_ "

     " _Anything useful?_ "

     " _...Boss? You're gonna want to see this._ "

     1954. The body of James Buchanan Barnes is found in the waters of Russia and taken in to Department X for experimentation. What they hadn't expected? The piece of him that was found. His left hand. Useless, unable to be reattached to his body. But containing the most valuable piece of information that the KGB had ever possessed. A name.  _Наталья Романова_.

* * *

 

**1958 ** **—Moscow, Russia******

    " _Natalia Romanova_?" a voice boomed out. She knew why she was being called. It was time. She'd heard the stories. A specialist. Being brought in to train the women who were excelling in the program. Complete their training. A Soldier. They called him the American sometimes. She figured that he was meant to teach her how to exude 'American'.

     " _Yes, sir?_ " she called back, straightening up. Thirty years had passed since her birth, but her body only showed sixteen of them. The Red Room's idea of utility. Keep the girls young, they'll last longer. Keep them young, they'll fit in better. Keep them young, they'll stay beautiful longer. But now it was time to complete her training. Once and for all. She knew what they wanted with her.

     " _Report to the training room_ ," the voice instructed. She did so without question, her left hand coming to her forehead to salute whatever nameless officer had given her the order. The skin of her wrist was scarred. As far as she knew, it had come from a mission she'd gone on ten years ago. Her arm was caught in a fan as she attempted escape. She was told that there hadn't been anything there before that. Proof that she was the perfect operative. Never intended to fall in love. No soulmate to speak of.

     As she arrived in the small training room, the lights were all out. She couldn't see anyone else, but she could sense another figure in the room. Another presence. With a smirk, she took a battle stance, ready for whatever attack was sure to come.

     Sure enough, within moments, there was a boot pressed into the small of her back, knocking her forward. Happily, she spun around, grasping at the ankle of her attacker and spinning him. She heard a loud thud as he fell to the floor, then a low chuckle as the lights turned on. Lying there on the ground, a man. His hair was long and shaggy. He wore a black mask. He had a metal arm. So, it was him. The fabled Winter Soldier.

     Grinning up at her from the floor like an idiot, he spoke. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Ready to become American?" he asked, slowly pushing himself up off the ground, his eyes fixed on her.

     With the slightest hint of a Russian accent, Natalia responded, "Just call me Laura Mathers." She flashed a smile to the Soldier, standing in her best impersonation of an American pose as possible.

     "Your English needs work. But first, we fight," he smirked, easily leaping back into fight mode. She returned his smirk, following his moves easily.

     They went on like this for two weeks, sparring and speaking exclusively in English. Though neither would admit it, they quickly grew extremely fond of one another. Before they even knew what was happening, they engaged in a secret love affair. Both knew that it was doomed to fail; Natalia was promised to a Soviet test pilot named Alexei Shostakov. The Soldier was a weapon. Neither of them were ever intended to  _feel_.

     One night, the Soldier found his way to Natalia's window, sneaking in. They'd nearly been discovered earlier that day, and Natalia hadn't seen him since. The moment that the Soldier was in her room, she was in his arms, a tear in her eye and threatening to fall. " _I thought they'd killed you_ ," she whispered, using the Russian.

     " _No, I'm here_ ," he whispered into her hair, his arms wrapping tightly around her. After a moment in silence, Natalia pulled away slightly, her fingers sliding down the Soldier's arms until their hands were in one another's. Natalia had always admired the Soldier's metal arm. The peak of technology, it was amazing. Her thumb rubbed over his metal wrist slightly. The Soldier felt a pang of something familiar as he stared at the metal wrist. There must have been something real there at some point, but that memory was long since forgotten.

     Through each other, both Natalia and the Soldier had begun to find cracks in their programming, finding pieces of the humans underneath the weapons. Neither of them could explain it, but it was as though they could find themselves by finding each other.

     The Soldier couldn't help but run his thumb over the scar tissue on Natalia's left wrist. "I suppose you must have a soulmate. Perhaps it's Alexei," he suggested with a shrug. A hardened look fell over Natalia's face at that statement. It was a great honor to be married to such a decorated test pilot, but she loved the Soldier more. Not that she could tell him that. _  
_

Natalia pulled her hand away, subconsciously rubbing at the scar tissue there. "I have no soulmate. I was born without a name on my wrist. I got this scar on a mission," she explained, turning away from him. She didn't necessarily always believe that story, but it's what she _had_ to believe. She was a weapon. Love wasn't an option for her. "...You need to leave," she whispered, walking away from him.

     With a nod, he obliged, leaving back out the window the way he'd come. Natalia crawled back into her bed, tears in her eyes that refused to fall. Not today.

     The next morning when Natalia reported for training, two agents were shortly behind her. Without explanation, they attacked the Soldier, subduing him. Natalia protested loudly, screaming and shouting that he hadn't done anything wrong. They ignored her, instructing her to leave to be fitted for her wedding dress. Tears once more in her eyes, she silently obliged, watching as they carted off the unconscious body of her mentor.

     Two weeks passed like this. She officially earned her title as a Black Widow. Yelena would soon be following in her footsteps. She was continually prepped for married life, doing everything asked of her from missions to dress fittings. But she didn't give up. She feared the worst for the Soldier. Either death or complete reprogramming- either would mean the death of their time together.

     She searched for him. At night, she snuck out of her room to find where they'd hidden him. That's when she found it. The stasis tube. The Soldier locked inside. Suspended in time. In that moment, she released all of those tears that had been starting to swell in her eyes so often over the past few weeks, never falling. But now they fell, finally free to feel. This explained everything. And with answers, came the breaking of her heart.


	4. Старые друзья

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter title translation from Russian: Old Friends. All text in italics is understood to be in Russian

**1962 **—Moscow, Russia****

     Four years had passed with no contact. No indication of life. Natalia heard rumors every now and then that the Winter Soldier had been brought out of stasis for a mission. But she never saw him, never heard from him. It was likely that the Red Room had wiped his memories, wiped her completely from his mind. Natalia had gotten on with her life. Married Alexei. Done as she was told. But no more.

     Now, after a lifetime of servitude and loyalty, Natalia was leaving. For good. Alexei was dead. Her country was lying to her, using her. She needed an out. The only thing that could possibly keep her from going was—

     " _Natalia?_ " she heard from behind her. So much for a stealthy escape. With a sigh, Natalia dropped her bag to the floor and turned around to face her only friend.

     " _I'm sorry, Yelena_ ," she whispered, her head bowed. " _But I have to do this. I'm not coming back_."

     Yelena clenched her jaw, an anger she'd never felt before swelling within her. " _What the hell do you think you're doing, Natalia? How could leaving possibly help? Defecting. Abandoning your country, abandoning_ me!"

     Natalia's whole body froze. Yelena. Her Little Spider. While a large breath, Natalia looked Yelena dead in the eye. "Goodbye, Yelena. I'm not Natalia anymore. I'm sorry." With that, Nat picked up her bag once more, tossing it over her shoulder, and leaping out the window in front of her. Her eyes remained locked on Yelena as long as she could manage before the blonde was out of her view forever.

* * *

 

**1987 **—Copenhagen, Denmark****

     Ever since defecting, Natalia Romanova had become a myth, a legend. No more did Nat conform to that name, that life. All that it had brought her was pain. She solely identified herself as the Black Widow. The one and only. The only issue came when one little widow came crawling out of the woodwork to bring her down.

     Yelena remained when Natalia left the Red Room, left Russia altogether. Before Natalia, the title of Black Widow was a rank earned by many. But she'd embodied it, become _The_ Black Widow. When she left, that honor fell to Yelena, the sister that hid in Natalia's shadow. But now she had a chance to take that name for herself, play it better. Make the world know just who the Black Widow was.

     " _Yelena,_ " the voice called, a soft hush to his tone. She'd been called here before, numerous times. She was being given an assignment. Seemingly an important one. " _We've located her. Just outside of Copenhagen. We need you to go. Complete your mission_."

     This was the opportunity Yelena had been waiting for for years. Ever since Natalia walked out on her. She accepted her mission with grace and was in Denmark within hours. She knew how to find Natalia. No one knew Natalia like Yelena knew her. Sneaking up on her was useless. She'd know you were coming for miles before you ever revealed yourself. And that's exactly how Yelena wanted it.

     Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years and here they were. Natalia had had the courtesy to wait until they were in a dark alley before turning around and pulling her gun on Yelena. Both women were slightly surprised at seeing the age on the others' face. Both had aged so little, and yet so much. They looked like young women now, though they both also knew that they'd never really been children. There  _are no_ children in the Red Room.

     " _I've missed you, Natalia_ ," Yelena breathed out, a pained smile painted onto her lips. She had her orders. She needed to do this. Get back at Natalia for all the pain she'd caused her. For leaving her.

     "Yelena..." Nat whispered, her face full of a sadness that the blonde had never seen there. It seemed the last twenty-five years hadn't been very kind to Natalia. "Listen to me. You don't understand why I did what I did. I  _had_ to."

     " _Oh, shut up!_ " Yelena shouted, keeping her own gun pointed directly at Natalia's heart. " _I have my orders, Natalia_."

     With a sigh, Natalia lowered her weapon, tossing it to the ground. "So shoot me," Nat called back. "Kill me, Little One. Shoot me!" she shouted, arms outstretched.

     Yelena kept the gun pointed at Natalia's heart, a kill shot. If she could only just pull the trigger. All she needed to do was move her index finger a fraction of an inch. It was right there. With a loud shout, Yelena waved her gun. When she did, her sleeve fell to her forearm, balling up there.

     "Kill me!" Nat shouted back, tears forming in her eyes for the first time in twenty-nine years. They didn't fall, but they stayed there. Waiting. Yelena's face was contorted in a look of mixed confusion and pain, but she wasn't pulling the trigger. Why the hell wouldn't she just pull the god damn trigger?!

     That's when Nat realized. Fifty-six years knowing Yelena. It was as long as Nat could remember. She'd always been there, with her. There was a flash of something in her memory. A flash of what? Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized. The flash was just that. A flash. A flash of a camera. There  _had_ been a name on her wrist. She couldn't remember it, but she knew that it had been there at one point. Yelena had helped her take a picture so she'd never forget. They'd hidden the picture, kept it safe. They were so young then.

     Fifty-six years. All that time and Nat had never once seen the name on Yelena's wrist. "...Natalia Romanova," she murmured, her own name heavy on her tongue. "That's what it says, doesn't it?" she called out, so that Yelena could hear her. Loud and clear.

     The look on Yelena's face said it all. She couldn't pull the trigger. Yelena couldn't kill Nat because  _she_ was her soulmate. She always had been. Nat had been the only person that Yelena had. Her only friend. She'd been there forever. For fifty-six years. " _I'm sorry,_ " Nat whispered, raising her hands above her head in surrender. "I'm sorry," she repeated, in English this time.

     When it became clear to Nat that she'd been right, that she was Yelena's soulmate, she knew that Yelena would never be able to pull the trigger. With that, she took off running down the alley, leaping up and onto a fire escape and through the window of the building. And just like that, Nat was gone.

     After the initial shock had passed, Yelena collapsed to her knees in the alleyway, dropping her gun. She took in a large gulp of air, trying to keep herself from breaking out in sobs. With a soft whimper, she looked down at the name imprinted on her wrist.  _Наталья Романова_.


	5. New Friends

**2014 **—Belfast, Ireland****

     "What about Annie from Accounting? She's a total sweetheart!" Nat shouted just after she put a bullet between the eyes of the last enemy agent.

     "Come on, Nat, I've told you. You don't need to set me up," Steve answered, shrugging. She'd been at this for months now. Every time, he told her no.

     "Steve, what've you got to lose?" she asked, turning to face him. "I'm being serious! What could you  _possibly_ have to lose?"

     With a sigh, Steve rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, showing her the name inscribed there.  _Margaret Carter_. Nat stared at the name for a moment. It was familiar, but she couldn't place why. "Who was she?" Nat asked. _  
_

"My soulmate," Steve answered simply, shrugging. "But she was Peggy when I knew her."

      _Soulmate_. That word was still so foreign to Nat. She glanced down at her own wrist for a moment, at the scar that remained there. She didn't have a soulmate, as far as she was concerned. If she did, he or she was long gone. Or maybe she wasn't her soulmate's soulmate. She knew it was possible. Yelena proved that. If she'd had Yelena's name written on her wrist, the Red Room would've separated them or killed them the minute they realized. Instead, they used Yelena's love for Natalia against her.

     "Steve," Nat sighed, re-holstering her guns, "You've got to move on some time." With a sigh, she pulled back her own sleeve, showing Steve the scar on her wrist. "Sometimes you have to make your own soulmate."

     Steve stared at her scarred wrist, a small smirk spreading over his lips. "Fine. Tell Annie it's a date," he chuckled, rolling his eyes at his friend as they geared back up, preparing to head back to SHIELD HQ.

* * *

 

**2014 **—Washington, D.C.****

> _"Bucky?" Steve shouted, eyes wide as he saw the man before him._
> 
> _With a dead-eye stare, the Winter Soldier spat back, "Who the hell is Bucky?"_

     "You have to believe that it's not your fault, Steve," Nat murmured to her friend as they rode in the transport van. She had a hole in her shoulder, she was bleeding out, but she needed Steve to know. Now wasn't the right time, but Steve deserved to know. She'd have to tell him eventually, though.

     Nat had never been very forthcoming about her past, but if anyone deserved to know things from her sordid history, it was Steven Grant Rogers.

* * *

 

**2014 **—Safe house just outside of Paris, France****

      After giving Steve the file on James Buchanan Barnes, Nat knew that it was only a matter of time before he tracked her back to this safe house. She'd given him the details he'd need. While Nat had been able to keep the details of her relationship with the Winter Soldier out of her SHIELD files that had been leaked onto the internet, she did include them in the Soldier's file.

     Essentially, it came as no surprise when there was a knock on her front door. With a sigh, she let Steve inside, reactivating the series of complicated locks she kept on the door. "I assume you've got questions," Nat murmured as she shuffled over to the couch.

     "The Winter Soldier," Steve answered, dropping the file she'd given him onto her coffee table. "James Buchanan Barnes. That was his name when I knew him." Nat knew all of this already, of course. They'd both carried him around in their heads. Years of memories, pain, love. But they never knew that the man that they both carried with them forever was the same James Buchanan Barnes, a.k.a. the Winter Soldier.

     "...You loved him, didn't you?" Steve asked. It was a loaded question. In all the time that he'd known Natasha, as well as he'd known her, he'd never really gotten the chance to know the real her. The woman that was capable of love, of being attached to someone.

     "...Yes," she whispered, swallowing harshly. "Yes, I did. Natalia Romanova, just a child, in love with the American!" Nat shouted, finding it harder to breath the more she said.

     Steve froze as she spoke, the name striking him like a hammer. "Natalia Romanova?" he asked, quirking a brow at her.

     Nat nodded, sighing. "That was my name. I changed it when I defected."

     Walking backward until the back of his legs found the edge of the couch, Steve sat down in stunned silence. "Russian. Natalia Romanova. I can't believe this," he whispered, rubbing at his temples.

     Genuinely confused, Nat came to her friend's side, seeing that there were some serious wheels spinning in his head. "Steve? What is it?" she asked.

     "Let me see your wrist," he murmured, glancing up at her. Still wary of whatever Steve was doing, Nat slowly outstretched her right wrist. Steve merely shook his head at her. They both knew what he meant. With a sigh, Nat offered her left wrist. Scarred, thin, pale. "I know what it said," Steve whispered, looking up at her. "I've always know. I've just been stupid."

     The pieces connected in her brain. The Soldier. His  _left_ arm. But Steve knew him as Bucky, Steve knew him when his arm was still intact. "James Barnes," she whispered, looking down at her own wrist. It all made sense now. She got a pang of memory; she was so young. But she knew. The name was written in English. It was an embarrassment, such a powerful Russian asset having the name of some American or Englishman attached to her wrist. So they'd erased it.

     Steve simply nodded, rubbing his thumb over the scar tissue there, a pained expression coming to his lips. It must've been quite the shock for Steve; she had no idea how he'd be handling this. "...Thank you, Cap," she whispered, looking him in the eye. They both knew what had to happen now.

 


	6. воссоединенный Любители

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter title translation from Russian: Reunited Lovers. All text in italics is understood to be in Russian

**2014—Lyon, France**

     " _We always said we'd visit Paris someday_ ," Nat shouted out when she was finally close enough to the man. Months of searching, but she'd finally found him. The Winter Soldier.

     The Soldier turned around instantly, taking in the flash of red hair there. He knew instantly exactly who was there.  _Natalia_. After all this time. " _You found me,_ " he smirked, something almost like pride in his voice as he spoke to her. They were safe here, but not for long. They were out in the open. " _...What are you doing here, Natalia?_ " he asked, his eyes fixed on her.

     With a sigh, she closed the space between them. She kept her eyes locked onto his- onto  _James_ \- as she approached him. She hadn't been this close to him without a weapon in fifty-six years. It was almost like poetic justice. She held the eye contact for a solid minute before breaking it to look down at her wrist, slowly pulling back her sleeve. Without a word, she showed him the scarred skin tissue on her wrist. "Remember?" she asked.

     He nodded slowly. "We both had fucked up destinies. No soulmates," he murmured, glancing down at his own metal arm and examining it for a moment.

     "No," she answered, eyes back to his, locking on once more. "No. We both had each other." Slowly and carefully, Nat reached into her purse and pulled out an ancient photo print. "I went back. I found this. Something I hadn't had for an entire lifetime," she whispered, looking at the photo in her hands. It was like even she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

     With a sharp intake of breath, she handed the photo over. It was impossibly old. They must have kept it somewhere extremely safe to have survived this long. There, on the small, pale, skinny wrist was the name  _James Barnes_. The look on the Soldier's face was one of confusion, then one of realization.

     "James Barnes," he murmured, his brow furrowed as he stared at the picture. Then, slowly, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "That's me. James Buchanan Barnes." Nat nodded, her eyes watching his face in order to determine how he'd react next.  After what seemed like ages, James looked down at his metal arm again, flexing his fingers before looking up at Nat, the question painted on his face.

     "Yes. Steve told me," she confirmed, nodding slowly. James nodded with her, looking from his metal wrist to her scarred wrist. After a long moment, his eyes met hers. Without another thought from either of them, they closed the space between them in a soft kiss. It wasn't rushed, rough, or harsh. It was soft, gentle. They had the freedom to be whoever they wanted, now. And they both knew now that they were meant to be together.

     When the kiss ended naturally, Nat smiled up at James. "One more thing," she whispered, eyes fixed onto his. "They knew. The whole time. The Red Room knew," she told him, the pain in her eyes evident. She made no attempt to hide it. Not from him.

     His expression was confused, hurt. They knew. They knew, and they still put them together. "Why? Why the hell would they do that?  _Why would they put us together, knowing that we'd fall for each other, just to separate us?_ " he shouted, switching to the Russian halfway through.

     Nat brought a calming hand to his chest, trying to keep him centered. " _They did it to motivate us. To harden us. Let us know real, powerful love, then take it away from us. They made us into weapons_ ," she whispered, eyes searching his eyes to see in them some sort of response. She had no idea what he was thinking.

     With a heavy sigh, James's expression moved from confused, to murderous, to calm. He was staring off into the distance until his features relaxed, at which point he looked back down at the woman before him. A small smile curled over his lips and he wrapped his arms around Nat. "None of that matters anymore. We've got each other, and that's all that matters now. Yeah?"

     Nat wrapped her arms around James as well, letting out a sigh. With it, she let out all of the stress of the past fifty-six years, just relaxing into him. Into their new life. "Yeah," she whispered, holding him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT EVEN SORRY. But seriously, I hope you liked it!


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